• 'Tis sixty years since first beneath this tree

    I stood a boy of ten,

    And here what time has left, or made of me,

    I stand again.

    ...


  • * * *


    And his legs carried it like a long fork

    Reachd all the way from Chichester to York

    From York all across Scotland to the Sea

    This was a Man of Men as seems to me
    5 Not only in his Mouth his own Soul lay...

  • And this of all my Hopes

    This, is the silent end

    Bountiful colored, my Morning rose

    Early and sere, its end


    Never Bud from a Stem

    Stepped with so gay a Foot

    Never a Worm so confident

    Bored at so brave a Root

  • It is not the fear of death

      That damps my brow;

    It is not for another breath

      I ask thee now;

    I can die with lip unstirr'd

      And a quiet heart—

    Let but this prayer be heard

      Ere I depart.


    I can give up my mother's look—

      My sister's kiss;

    I can...


  • The Angel[1]



    I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?

    And that I was a maiden queen

    Guarded by an angel mild.

    Witless woe was ne'er beguil'd!


    And I wept both night & day,

    And he wiped my tears away,...


  • * * *


    The Angel that presided oer my birth

    Said Little creature formd of Joy & Mirth

    Go love without the help of any King on Earth

  • Angels in the early morning

    May be seen the dews among,

    Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying :

    Do the buds to them belong ?


    Angels when the sun is hottest

    May be seen the sands among,

    Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying...


  • * * *


    Anger & Wrath my bosom rends

    I thought them the Errors of friends

    But all my limbs with warmth glow

    I find them the Errors of the foe

  • Our gloves are stiff with the frozen blood,

           Our furs with the drifted snow,

    As we come in with the seal—the seal!

           In from the edge of the floe.


    Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!

           And the yelping dog-teams go;

    And the long whips crack, and the men come back,

           Back from...



  • Still apprehending death and pain,

    To whom great God shall I complain?
    To whom pour out my tears

    But to the pow'r that gave me breath,

    The arbiter of life and death,
    ...